Despite their fatigue, Yim and Honus picked up their pace and reached the bridge as night fell. The structure was a relic from more prosperous times. The roadway between its sides was narrow, designed to slow an advancing army, and its surface was worn by traffic. That traffic and any threat of invasion had long departed, for Luvein lacked both armies and tradesmen. Weeds and saplings grew between the paving stones, and Yim and Honus had the bridge to themselves. On the Luvein side was a ruined gatehouse. On the Vinden side, the gatehouse had been incorporated into a sprawling building of stone and timber. Its windows glowed gaily in the evening. “That’s the Bridge Inn,” said Honus.
As Yim began to cross the bridge, she thought of her appearance for the first time in days. It shamed her to think of the impression she would make. She was barefoot; her cheap tunic was soiled and frayed; and her cloak bore a large bloodstain. She looked down with dismay at her scratched legs and dirty feet, feeling self-conscious. “Master, they’ll think I’m some beggar girl.”
“It’s true we’ve traveled hard,” said Honus, “but don’t worry. Roric is an old friend. We’ll be well treated.”
“I’d feel better if I could wash before we eat.”
“And wait for your cheese? I didn’t know you were so dainty.”
Yim said nothing, but the look she gave Honus had its effect. “Before we dine,” he said, “I’ll ask Roric to send a basin to our room.”
“Thank you, Master.”
They reached the end of the bridge and found a large wooden door barring their way. After Honus rang the bell affixed to it, a peephole opened and a man peered out.
Honus bowed his head politely. “Good evening, Father.”
The man turned to speak to someone behind the door. “Better tell Yuv there’s a Sarf ’ere.”
“Will you open the door?” asked Honus.
The man seemed to hesitate before unbolting a small door within the larger one. Honus and Yim passed through it into a large courtyard flanked on either side by stables. At the opposite end of the courtyard stood a large building that had been altered many times, with the most ancient sections appearing to be the finest. Parts of it were stone, while others were timber, and still others were timber and wattle. The windows were positioned unevenly and varied in shape and size, hinting that the rooms within were mismatched as well. Some windows were glazed with glass, though missing panes had been replaced by wood, while others were covered with oiled parchment. A large passageway tunneled through the center of the inn and terminated at a massive gate.
After spending days alone with Honus, Yim thought the courtyard was a hive of humanity. Soldiers mingled with merchants, farmers, and other travelers while stable hands and porters scurried about. Through the open windows of the inn she could hear the boisterous sounds of the common room and smell the aromas of cooking. Her mouth began to water, and she forgot her disheveled state.
Honus called back to the man who admitted them. “Where will I find Roric?”
“On the Dark Path, like as not. We ran off the outland dog.”
“Roric an outlander?” said Honus. “He had this inn for years!”
The man spat. “Grown fat off folk that was borned ’ere. All the more reason to be rid of ’im. We’ve larned ’ow to take care of our own.” He made the sign of the circle. “Yuv’s master now. Ye talk to ’im.” He pointed to a fat, florid-faced man in a greasy apron who stood by the entrance to the common room. He was flanked by another man, who held an unsheathed sword.
Honus crossed the courtyard and bowed. “You must be Yuv.”
“Aye, Karmamatus,” replied Yuv, saying the word as if it were an epithet. “I’m master here.”
“I trust Karm is still honored at the Bridge Inn.”
“We’re full up. But there’s hay in the stables.”
“And food?”
“Aye, I’ll feed ye,” said Yuv, looking put out by the prospect.
“I’m grateful, and the goddess is honored by your generosity.”
Honus turned to Yim and whispered, “I’m sorry about the bath.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back.
Honus had started toward the entrance, with Yim following, when Yuv yelled out, “No whores in the common room!”
Honus halted and with an icy voice said: “This woman bears my pack and is under my protection.”
Yuv shrugged. “Sorry. So she only looks like a whore.”
Honus placed a hand on his sword hilt. “You’d best apologize to the lady.”
The man with the sword had been snickering, but now he scowled and pointed his blade at Honus. Honus didn’t move, but his body had the tense stillness of a snake ready to strike. His gaze never left the swordsman, but he addressed Yuv in a calm, cold voice: “Will your servant be of use if he lacks a sword hand?”
Yuv angrily motioned his man to put away his weapon. Then he bowed curtly toward Yim. “Sorry I mistook ye.”
“Come, Yim,” said Honus as he entered the common room. She followed him, crimson with humiliation.
The common room was large and paneled with dark wood. The tables and benches that filled it bore the mark of long and constant use. Most were occupied. The diners and drinkers made the room loud with their talk, and boisterous sounds also poured forth from an adjoining private dining hall. Honus’s entrance was noted by a few who inclined their heads and by others who scowled and made the sign of the circle. The rest of the room’s occupants ignored the newcomers, being caught up in food, drink, and conversation. Honus found an empty place at a table of merchants, who nodded and muttered “Karmamatus” before resuming their discussion on the price of wool. One of the older merchants, who had his fill of both talk and ale, stared lustfully at Yim. Yim peered about the room and realized that Yuv’s interdiction of whores was solely meant to insult her, for several were evident. The drunken man clearly included her among their number.
A waiter with an insolent look brought food and drink to Honus only. The portions were stingy and the quality insulting. The ale’s smell betrayed it as spoiled dregs, the bread was a moldy crust, and the cheese looked like a small blue rock. Yim could see that Honus struggled to subdue his outrage. He turned to the waiter, and in a low voice said, “Karm sees the spirit of this gift.” The man shrugged and retreated.
Honus broke off a piece of the crust, and then pushed the remainder of his meal toward Yim. “This was meant to insult me,” he said. “I hope you don’t think I’m insulting you.”
“I don’t,” said Yim. As she looked at her long-anticipated meal, her eyes welled with tears. Listlessly, she picked up the blue lump and crumbled it, hoping to find a small bit that still tasted like cheese.
TWENTY-FIVE
YIM WAS still picking at the moldy cheese when a man with a military bearing entered the common room from the private dining hall. When he spotted Honus, his face showed surprise, then delight. “Honus?” he yelled over the din. “Can it be you?”
Honus turned at the sound of his name. “It is.”
The man bounded across the room, knocking aside several people in the process. He gave Honus a bear hug as he rose to greet him. “Karmamatus, this is a happy chance.”
Honus’s grim expression softened and broke into a smile. “It’s good to see you, General.”
“It’s just Cronin, now. Back to the highlands for me. I’ve had my fill of the emperor’s court. Where’s Theodus?”
“Slain.”
Cronin’s face fell. “Slain? This is ill news indeed. When did this happen? How did it happen? Who’s your Bearer now? Have you dined yet?”
“I see you still need to know everything at once,” said Honus. “The story of Theodus is a weighty matter and not quickly answered. I have no Bearer, but Yim carries my pack.” He gestured toward Yim, who shyly bowed her head. Then Honus waved his hand at the stale crusts, moldy cheese, and sour ale. “And this is our dinner.”
Cronin regarded the meal and his face went red. “YUV!” h
e bellowed, emphasizing his shout by hurtling the ale mug against the wall. By the time the innkeeper emerged from the kitchen, Cronin had drawn his sword and the inn’s patrons were scrambling out of his way. “Yuv, you cheap, insolent swine! You’re a fool to take a Sarf’s humility as license for disrespect. Well, I’m na humble!” Cronin swung his sword and split a bench. “You dishonor Karm with this slop!” He threw the moldy cheese at Yuv, hitting him in the belly.
By then, Cronin’s comrades had spilled out of the private dining hall. All of them were military men, and hardened veterans by their looks. They seemed to be waiting for a signal to tear the place apart.
Yuv cowered and answered in a quaking voice. “Most honorable sire! Please! There’s been a dreadful mistake! I said only the finest for the Sarf and his lady. The waiter must have cheated both him and me. I’ll have him whipped and a proper dinner brought at once.” He bowed low to Honus. “I humbly beg yer pardon, Karmamatus.”
“Bring their meal to the dining hall,” said Cronin to Yuv. “They’ll dine with us. And bring another round of ale.”
“It’ll be on the house, sire,” said Yuv, bowing again before hurrying off.
Cronin grinned broadly, but Honus looked displeased. “Cronin…”
“I know, I know. It takes a strong man to bear an insult. I simply lack your strength, old friend. Besides, there’s a lady involved.” Cronin bowed politely to Yim, who was disconcerted by his notice.
With the excitement over, the common room’s patrons began to settle at their tables, and Cronin’s comrades returned to the dining hall. Cronin led Honus and Yim to the head table, where space was made for them. As they entered, waiters arrived with mugs of ale. Cronin seized one and held it high. “Comrades, a toast! To the man who fought beside me against horse raiders in the Eastern Reach…the witchriders in Argenor…and the warlord of Kambul. To the man who saved my life, na once, but twice. To a faithful servant of the goddess who also happens to be the bravest—and the most modest—man in Vinden. To Honus!”
“To Honus!” shouted the men.
Honus politely acknowledged the toast, but didn’t seem to relish the acclaim. Waiters soon brought Honus and Yim a meal that was as ample and delicious as the first one was stingy and unpalatable. It consisted of a rich stew of spiced lamb and vegetables, a hot loaf of bread, three kinds of cheese, pickled onions and beets, dried fruit, and more ale. Yim’s eyes shone at the bounty. She waited for Honus to take the first bite, then ate with abandon.
As the waiter served the final dish, Cronin said to him, “Bring your master here.”
Soon, Yuv timidly entered the dining hall. “Friend Yuv,” said Cronin, “I’m glad you discovered that waiter’s misdeed. Now we witness your true generosity. I’m certain the room you’ve set aside for the Sarf and his lady is as fine as their dinner.”
“It…It is, sire. They’re making it ready as we speak.”
“There’ll be a tub and hot water, of course.”
“Naturally, sire.”
Cronin took two coppers from his purse and slapped them on the table. “Here’s recompense for your bench. I seemed to have misjudged your piety.”
Yuv tried to hide his chagrin as he bowed. “Thank you, sire.”
“Send a man to take the Sarf’s pack to his room.”
“Right away, sire.”
Cronin dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
As Yuv retreated, Cronin muttered to Honus, “He’d better kiss my arse. I have two dozen officers staying here and six hundred troops bivouacked outside.”
“The goddess isn’t honored by coerced charity,” said Honus.
“No,” admitted Cronin, “but you are. That was my purpose. And your woman deserves a decent meal, even if you’re content with Yuv’s garbage.”
Honus smiled at the sight of Yim relishing some cheese. “Yes, she does.”
“I’ve many questions, old friend,” said Cronin, “and news for you as well. Much has happened since you and Theodus left. Your reception at the Bridge Inn foreshadows the mood in Bremven. There’s a new emperor now.”
“What happened to Theric?”
“A prudent man would say he took ill.”
“And you?”
“I grow less prudent the farther I’m from Bremven. I see his brother’s hand in his demise.”
“Morvus? That coward?”
“Lord Bahl seems to have lent him a spine.”
“I see,” said Honus. “At what price, I wonder.”
“One, I suspect, that shall be more than Morvus will gladly pay. There’s a temple to the Devourer in Bremven now. It’s already sown much discord.”
“I fear Roric was one of its victims,” said Honus.
“He was, and countless others. There’s madness abroad, and I’m sick of it. I’m going to where folk still respect the Balance.”
“I think your ill tidings and mine are pieces of the same cloth. Lord Bahl figures large in both. We should talk privately.”
“Yes,” said Cronin, “we’ll find a place with fewer ears. Then there’ll be time enough for grim talk. I’d be a poor host if I did na permit you to enjoy your meal. Moreover, Theodus never approved of wasting food or drink.”
“No,” said Honus with sadness in his voice, “he did not.” He raised his mug to Cronin’s. “To Theodus.”
At first, Yim had been too engrossed in her food to pay much attention to Honus and Cronin. Yet as her hunger was satisfied, she began to take interest in the man who had so dramatically changed her evening. He appeared slightly younger than Honus, and while it seemed unusual for a man his age to be a general, Cronin fit the part. He had the commanding presence of a natural leader—self-assured, yet not aloof. It was evident that all the men in the room both respected and liked him. He seemed volatile but trustworthy.
Cronin’s appearance perfectly reflected his profession. He had a broad chest and muscular arms. His wide face was dominated by lively blue eyes and a quick smile. Brownish blond hair, cropped at the shoulders, framed his tanned complexion, which was marked with a jagged scar. His clothes were cut in the military style—simple, yet finely made. He wore a leather tunic over a short-sleeved shirt and his baggy pants were tucked into calf-high boots.
Yim tried to follow Cronin and Honus’s conversation. They were reminiscing about Theodus. Honus alternated between laughter and melancholy as he recounted a long story about his Bearer and an overly proud count. As interested as Yim was in the tale, the din of the room, her fatigue, and the strong ale got the best of her. Before long, her head slumped to the table.
When Cronin noticed that Yim was asleep, he took the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. Whispering to Honus, he asked, “Who is she?”
“A slave.”
“A slave? I’ve never heard of a Sarf with a slave before.”
“When Theodus last read my runes, he said I should never carry my own burden.”
“Any of my men would have gladly done so.”
“I was in a battle where only one other man survived.”
“Was that the same battle where Theodus was slain?” asked Cronin.
“Yes. The survivor was a count’s son. At first, he was eager to serve me. Yet he proved unworthy of the task.”
“And this slave is?”
“Until I reach the temple, yes.”
“Well, I’ll say this—she’s a pretty thing,” said Cronin. “Though I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
When Honus simply grunted, Cronin grinned. “Now that we’ve agreed on that, what else can you tell me?”
“I bought her in Durkin. She’s a peddler’s daughter from the Cloud Mountains.”
“The Cloud Mountains! That’s far away. How did she end up in Durkin?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Do na give me that, Honus. I know your power to look into eyes and lay bare secrets. I’ve seen you do it. By now, you understand everything about her.”
Honus shook his head. “I don’t.
In fact, she’s a mystery.”
“Yet she journeys with you on a perilous road, a girl na older than my little sister.” Cronin pulled out a small leather purse and placed it on the table. “Use this to buy her sandals and some proper clothes. Slave or na, you should na treat her like a Sarf. She took na vows of poverty.”
Honus looked at the purse without touching it.
“She’s a woman, Honus. Those rags shame her. She bears your burden, as did Theodus. Allow me to honor his memory with this gift.”
Honus took the purse. “You’re right, old friend. She deserves better. She’s already suffered much on my account.”
“And if you’re going to Bremven,” said Cronin, “she’s likely to suffer more.”
TWENTY-SIX
ONE OF Cronin’s officers gently woke Yim and escorted her to Honus’s room. It was in the oldest section of the inn and featured paneled walls, a small fireplace, and glazed windows. In the dim candlelight, it looked elegant. There were two beds, a larger one for a master or mistress and a trundle bed for his or her servant. Both had reasonably clean linens. There was no fire in the fireplace, but as soon as Yim arrived, servants lit one and brought in a copper tub and ewers of hot water. When the tub was filled and the water sprinkled with dried flower petals, they left.
Yim bathed, then washed her tunic. She hung it up to dry and climbed between the sheets of the servant’s bed. The lumpy mattress seemed the height of luxury after sleeping on the ground. She fell asleep almost instantly and woke only briefly when Honus entered the room. By then, only embers glowed in the fireplace, and the candle had burned out. She closed her eyes again, and drifted off to sleep as Honus quietly bathed in the cold bath.
Day’s first light was shining through the window when a knock woke both Honus and Yim. Honus rose and threw Yim her tunic, then dressed. He opened the door to find a young, blond woman who shared Cronin’s good-natured features. “Cara!” he said gladly. “It’s good to see you again. How are you?”
Cara formed her face into an imitation frown. “I’m sad, Honus, for my brother has lost his mind.”
[Shadowed Path 01] - A Woman Worth Ten Coppers Page 18
